


Shortbread for Serpents

by SealandRocks



Series: Love Stories for the Oblivious [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale and Crowley Live Together (Good Omens), Aziraphale and Crowley in Love (Good Omens), Cookies, Cute, Cute Kids, Drabble, Fluff, Future, Gardens & Gardening, M/M, Serpent Crowley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-27 01:31:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20037685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SealandRocks/pseuds/SealandRocks
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley have a visitor at their cottage. Of course, no visitor expects a giant serpent to meet them at the door. And no demon is expecting a visitor that absolutely loves snakes.





	Shortbread for Serpents

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a brief little drabble I wrote at the lake. Hope you enjoy!

A creature slithers through the damp underbrush, each move calculated and intent. Danger coursed through its veins, aware of every tiny fluttering of leaves. A serpentine tongue flicks the air, tasting its surroundings. Not a stalk of vegetation moves underbelly. This is the most dangerous of creatures. This is the epitome of death itself. 

Fear courses through the veins of every creature it passes. Everything stands absolutely still until the serpent passes, trying not to attract the attention of its unblinking eyes. A low hiss rumbles inside the belly of the massive snake. There is weakness in the air today. Betrayal. The serpent hones in on the scent, quietly and steadily closing in. It isn’t long before it has located the source, standing as still as possible with everything else in the greenery. It doesn’t notice the beast’s silent approach, but the anticipation of being caught is thick in the air. 

The serpent locks its topaz eyes on its target, single minded and deadly. Slowly it coils the massive length of its body through the brush, cutting off all escape for its victim. Closer, closer it draws. The wind is holding its breath. The time has come. The serpent's body contracts, drawing in from all sides and gracefully imprisoning the doomed soul. 

“Isss that a sssspot?” The serpent hisses deliberately.

The plant in his grasp trembles in its Terra Cotta planter. Crowley takes a feral delight in the shuddering leaves, forked tongue tasting the fear. He squeezes the pot tighter, the ceramic groaning under the stress. 

“Sssspots are not tolerated in this houssse!”

Crowley drags the pot from its place, tugging it towards the garden’s main gravel path. Plants like this were to make examples of. The finest garden in Canterbury didn’t just happen on its own. A show had to be made of every plant that dared disobey him, and he was going to take joy in introducing this one to the next stage of its life. The entire garden seemed to tremble in fear. It was absolutely perfect.

Suddenly, Crowley stopped moving, gravel crunching under his belly as he set the pot down. He raised his head, sensing something different on the property. 

Aziraphale’s melodic voice drifted through the garden from the front of the cottage. It wasn’t unheard of for the angel to mutter to himself, but the words seemed very deliberate and directed. Crowley felt himself being drawn towards it, plant forgotten. Winding out of the garden and around the house, he found that Aziraphale was indeed in conversation with someone. Crowley slipped his way into a nearby bush to watch what was happening at the front door. 

“Oh! Thank you dear! These look delicious.” Aziraphale was doting over a plate of shortbread cookies, much to the delight of the small girl on the doorstep with her mother. Crowley could see and smell the exorbitant amount of icing that frosted them. They were uneven and slightly crispy, but extreme and untalented care had gone into them. 

“I made extras for you and Mr. Cowley!” The little girl had the slightest hint of a lisp that tugged at Crowley’s heart. She was pointing at different cookies on the plate, reaching on her tiptoes to be high enough. There were little butterflies decorating her skirt that contradicted the mud stains along the hem. Crowley’s head emerged slightly from the foliage to get a better view. 

“We’re renting a cottage down the way for the summer and she insisted on meeting the neighbors.” The girl’s mother said. 

“Mr. Cowley gives me apples from your garden!” The tiny girl’s face lit up in a bright, gapped-tooth grin. Aziraphale returned the smile easily, memory playing behind his eyes. Crowley hadn’t told him about his times being nice to the village children. Besides, it would have been cruel not to ensure that everyone got enough fruit in their diet. Regardless, judging by the look on Aziraphale’s face, there was no doubt he would be hearing about this again tonight. 

“He’ll be delighted. He’s off at the shops right now, but I’ll be sure to show him the cookies as soon as he’s home, Ms. Jasmine.”

The little girl giggled, letting her mother take her hand and turn her to leave. Suddenly, she let out a shriek. Aziraphale and the woman startled, but the girl was already off the porch and running to where Crowley had been hidden. Or, more accurately, previously been hidden. His body was just barely contained in the bush as it was. 

“You have a snake!” She exclaimed, tiny hands held out for Crowley’s tongue to flick over. She smelled like flour and mud puddles. He gave up trying to stay in the bush, not seeing the point in hiding anymore. Jasmine was giggling, running her hand over Crowley’s warm scales and trying to imitate his tongue. Her hands didn’t even come close to matching the width of his body, but she patted at his sides anyway like it was completely normal for a snake to be so much bigger than her. There was a spot she scratched under his chin that felt particularly nice, and in response he used the very end of his tail to push a stray curl behind her ear. Jasmine looked like she had just been handed the world. 

Jasmine’s mother looked like she was having a panic attack. Her mouth worked soundlessly, knuckles white on the railing. It was very possible that fear for her daughter was the only thing keeping her upright. Aziraphale recovered before her, placing a calm hand on the woman's shoulder. 

“It’s perfectly safe, he’s our tamed snake. He... just enjoys the garden.”

Crowley tried not to show how much he was enjoying Jasmine’s soft touches to his forehead. He brought his head up level with hers, swaying back and forth and making her giggle. 

“I’ll make you mice shortbread next time, Mr. Snake! I’m sure Mr. Cowley won’t mind.” 

Crowley’s eyes probably betrayed how precious he found that. 

“Jasmine, darling, let’s leave.” The mother looked like she was about to throw up. Her face was white as a sheet, but under Aziraphale’s hand she was regaining composure. If Crowley could have, he would have rolled his eyes at the waste of a miracle. Jasmine looked reluctant to leave, but nodded anyway.

“Ok… Bye-bye, Mr. Snake!” Jasmine held Crowley’s diamond head and placed a kiss right on the rip of his nose before running off. It was unexpected and pure and Crowley, blushing beneath his scales, was reminded painfully of how much he loved children. She was just like Warlock, but sweet and loving. He would give her two apples tomorrow. 

Mother and daughter walked down the path and away as Crowley slithered up to Aziraphale. He felt incredibly light inside, made lighter by the way Aziraphale’s hand flowed down his scaled back. Draping across his angel’s shoulders felt natural.

“Must you scare all the parents in this village?”

“The girl didn’t seem too scared.” Crowley pressed a serpent kiss to Aziraphale’s cheek. His angel blushed cutely. Crowley drank in the sight, still not used to it after all this time, and flicked out his tongue again as Aziraphale cleared his throat. 

“Come, my love, there’s biscuits.” Aziraphale gathered the rest of Crowley’s long body in his arms and brought him inside. Crowley basically melted in his arms, hissing something not unlike a purr as he was carried across the threshold. 

It took all Crowley had not to ask his angel to marry him again. After all, Aziraphale had said yes the first time.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are always read and appreciated. I wouldn't have drive to write without all of you. I love you! Thank you for reading!


End file.
